With which, and with a slight and perfectly self-possessed bow to Sir Thomas and the assembled company, he departed, and Otho Askam with him.
This scene, of course, made a great sensation, and that night was reported far and wide, throughout many miles of Yorkshire and Durham. Every man agreed in saying that Sir Thomas Winthrop was apt to become too expansive on these occasions, and that they hoped it would be a lesson to him. As to Gilbert and Otho, and their behaviour, opinions differed. Men spoke of their parts in the fray according to their own feelings and dispositions, some saying that it was a touching example of faith and friendship, others leaning on the opinion that Otho Askam, in to-morrow’s stingy fit, would repent him of his reckless generosity to-day; while one observer said—
‘I suppose there was something real in it. I’m sure there was on Askam’s side, at any rate; but that Gilbert Langstroth is a queer fellow. I’m certain, if you could see to the bottom of his heart, you would find gratitude to Sir Thomas for having given him such a chance. It was very telling, that slightly trembling voice, and that little side stroke about having fought their battles alone, and without asking Sir Thomas’s help. It made Sir Thomas look confoundedly foolish, and as if he had been doing a very mean thing.’
‘And don’t you think he had?’
‘Certainly not. He had been doing what he thought was the very best for everybody, and in the most disinterested way. Only, you know, he hates what he calls tradespeople like poison; and the idea of knocking Gilbert’s factories on the head was just too much for him.’
‘Well, I’m much mistaken if he has not given them a good push towards a fresh start.’
‘I quite agree with you.’ And there was a laugh at the expense of Sir Thomas.
The poor gentleman hid his diminished head that night, and it was not till the following morning that he had so far revived as to be able to take a tone of dignified bitterness, and grave satire on his own good-nature. ‘Selfishness,’ he informed Lady Winthrop, ‘was the only policy that paid, and never again would he commit the mistake of offering disinterested advice to young men, even though they might be the sons of his oldest friends.’
It never transpired what passed between Gilbert and Otho at any private interview after this scene, but it was not very long afterwards, that Gilbert, with a tranquil smile on his face, sat down to his desk and wrote the following letter:—
‘Dear Roger,